Redux For Two
by Slittlej
Summary: Here's a bit of Scully/Mulder frivolous, puffy-fluffiness. Here's hoping it's enjoyed. Reviews would be nice; all types are welcome.
1. Chapter 1

He called because, plain and simple, he missed her, hadn't seen her in HOURS. Well, at least since ten this morning. Far too many hours had passed and Mulder wondered if she would come back to the office, or go straight back home, not his, without returning to touch base. She could call, at least. Why hadn't she? He was very big on her touching base with him; it was a reciprocal thing. Well, at least he was trying to do it more, making more of an effort. He had stopped habitually ditching her. Had she picked up the bad habit?

Her latest disappearing act was his own fault; he'd asked her to autopsy a murder victim—pronto. As if she didn't drop everything and do it right away, the poor stiff would get up and walk out.

Doing it again, Mulder glanced at the clock, thinking…shouldn't she be done by now? He plucked up his phone and speed dialed.

"Scully," Dana crisply answered, balancing her phone between her shoulder and the crook of her neck while attempting to get a better look at the victim's spleen. She noted the edge to her partner's voice right off. "Mulder. I'm almost—"

"Scully, I know what you're wearing. You have more than a good idea what I like, y'know."

What the? Had he, in the name of professional experimentation, ingested those hallucinogenic mushrooms still lying around their time capsule of an office? Her enigmatic smile unfurled, mellowing her frown. "Mulder, what are you _on_? Those mushrooms too much of a temptation? I'm wearing what I normally wear for dissection. You don't need much of imagination for that. I shouldn't be much long—"

"Scully, believe me when I say you set my imagination free. Stay just the way you are for me." If she could only see how giddily he smiled, all syrupy and sloppy, he could almost hear her gorgeous mind weighing options, sneering at folly.

"I'm finishing up this autopsy. I'll report my findings once I'm back in the office, so cool your jets. I'll shower and—"

Scully wished he'd let her finish a sentence. All this being cut off was getting on her last nerve.

"Hold that thought!" Needless to say, Mulder high-tailed it to the morgue, which was very much deserted, except for the draped bodies. Had she gone off to shower already? Glum, he poked around this echoing place, which smelled of death and disinfectant.

Appearing out of nowhere suddenly, Scully, in scrubs, her inquisitive eyes bright, sweetly inquired, "What took you so long?"

Mulder, bent on soothing her, shrugged as he angled up alongside her. "Worth the wait," he breathed against the shell of her ear, his arms slinking around her like foxes.

Her inflection broadened. "I'll be the judge of that." Sniggering, and not missing a beat, she added, "Mulder, you may be the F-B-I's most unwanted, but that's not my assess-"

Though he interrupted her again, this stoppage was decidedly a lot more agreeable. Greedily, her partner in solving mysterious events, his mouth descending, cut her off in mid-sentiment. Again.

Scully did not object. Their kiss endured as though the air they needed to breathe was supplied by the other and they'd been deprived ever since they had first met. For years. Following several prolonged minutes of avid osculation, they relaxed, slackening their grips, panting like dogs with eyes glazed.

"Doctor Scully…you were saying?"

Blinking, she blurted, "I forget."

Mulder beamed. "Good. Next I have to work on making you forget your own name."

"Think you're up for the challenge, G-man?" Daring him was undeniably in her eyes. She puckered her lips with accompanying 'kissy' noises, like waving a red cape before a bull. And, barraged him with saucy winks.

"Who would have thought the scientific method could be this enticing?" He tossed her one of his own well-honed saucy winks. "I don't think I'm going out on a limb here. I'm definitely enticed." He tickled her inner ear with his tongue and breathily continued, "This setting is perfect for what I have in mind..."

"Only you'd think so, Mulder," Scully wiled, letting him back her up against the table with the body she'd been working on. The cadaver's bony knee elbowed into her buttock.

"Not only think it, but say so too."

"Your intent is clear," Scully bantered. "But there's a problem."

Mawkish laughter spurt from him. "Surprise me. _What_?" Borrowing some sardonic humor from Langly, Mulder sniped, "Not romantic enough for ye, yet?"

Fiddling with his tie, Scully unleashed, "And what's so wrong with my being clear about what _I_ want?"

"Not a thing," he insisted, smiling, no, more like leering. "As long as what you want is _me_."

"Always," Scully asserted, sealing her avowal with another lip-searing kiss. "And forever." Taking his hand, she murmured, "The showers are this way."

Mulder paused, did an about-face and addressed the shiny, steely freezer drawers, behind which lay their deceased occupants. "We'll try keeping the noise down, guys."

Seamlessly, Scully cut in, "I promise I will while my trustworthy partner here stands guard while I clean up." Her puppy dog eyes barked at a shocked, crestfallen Mulder. "What? Did you really think—"

"Sculleeee!"

She retook his hand, gently guiding him along and it wasn't long before his protests died out. The showers were small, pristine, serene; blue tile and snow white grout reigned supreme in these environs. Scully left Mulder to his rueful thoughts while she went off to enjoy solitude and steamy hot water.

Mulder listened, hearing the water run, imagining it flowing over his favorite pathologist's beautiful body, wishing he wasn't stationed by the nearest changing room, like a perfect gentleman. More like a chump. He glimpsed himself in a harsh mirror over a sink and groaned, banging his eyes shut. "You're killing me, here," he announced, over Scully's humming. He was a gentleman, a man not so gently going insane.

"I certainly hope not," Scully innocently rejoined.

"I had such inventive plans for you," he audibly lamented. "Us…"

"There's no reason to speak in the past tense."

Involuntarily, he began loosening his tie. "Then you're changing your mind? You want me to join you?" He heard her chuckling, taking that to mean she still wasn't taking him seriously. He continued seeing red, keeping very still, controlling his breathing.

It got too quiet for Scully's liking, eerily so. "Mulder, are you still there?" She leaned her wet head against the gleaming tiles, relaxing for the first time today, which had been grueling. When she received no answer, she stiffened and shivered a bit. The tile was cold. The water had begun to run that way too. She gazed straight ahead of herself, straining to hear any sound that Mulder was still out there. Why would he desert her? Several minutes passed as her pulse and breathing quickened. She lifted her chin and raised her voice to shout— "Mulder! Answer me! Are you there?" Why wasn't he answering? He was supposed to be standing guard just in case some random person of the male persuasion should happen by. Never would she admit that showering alone in the morgue during off hours was a nervy thing. She'd worked enough X-Files to know that the weirdest, inexplicable things had a way of happening in showers. But she knew she wasn't alone. Right. The man she was with was supposed to be watching out for her, not playing around. She had a right to be sore if he was. Her impeccably effective Scully eyebrow arched; she reached out a hand, groping for Mulder. She should be sticking her head out for a visual check. Why wasn't she? Fear of the unknown? She quickly dismissed that silly thought. When her 'quester' connected with his arm, she swatted it, her ire showing.

"So, Doctor Scully…" His mellifluous voice, like balm, was an arm's breadth off, on the other side of the shower curtain. "Seems as though you want me after all."

"Not funny, Mulder."

"Hey, I'm right here. What did you think? I ditched you?"

Growling, she retorted, "Shut up and kiss me."

"Huh?" The dumbfounded expression on his face was memorable. "Helped yourself to a few mushrooms yourself, Scully?" She glared at him, with arms crossed, waiting, tapping her foot. Snapping out of it, he happily obliged, doing as he'd been ordered.

They kissed: slowly, languorously, ever so slowly, but not over the top. Appreciatively, Scully was saving some for later…

Mulder, loath to surrender the succulence of her plump, moist lips, grinned. "The water's kind of cold, but I could help with that… Well, uh… You know."

Both Scully brows arched. It was her _'Mulder, you're nuts, but you're also sweet in your own kooky kind of way' _look. "You can help by handing me that robe on the peg." He did so lickety-split. "Thanks," she tossed out.

While she robed, and he wished he was still kissing her. Her downy temple, her velvety cheek, her alabaster throat, he boldly said, "Hey, Scully, it's a good thing dead men tell no tales, huh?" He stuck his head back into the shower. A soaking suit was small price to pay for this up close and personal moment.

Tongue-in-cheek, Scully homed in on his face and went for it, pulling him in tenderly to kiss his nose. "Don't make me hurt you."

"Ooh, Miss Scully, hurt me. Hurt me."

Her stern face at its best, she gestured for him to leave through the door so she could get dressed. As she wrapped her hair up in a practically threadbare towel, she suggested, "Let's go somewhere fun tonight, Mulder."

"I'm open to suggestions," he acknowledged, spinning around before he left her sight. "Like where?"

"What would you say to a night at your place with several of your vintage movies. I'll spring for some Redenbacher."

He rushed back to kiss her hand, his smile blowing up his face. "It'll go great with the vintage wine I've been saving for such an occasion."

"Vintage all the way," Scully replied, nearly cheering. "Now let me get dressed."

"You know, Scully, you've had some of your greatest ideas when you're all wet."

Not quite blushing, as Mulder made a farcical deal out of kissing her hand once again, Scully retorted, "Go. Out. Entertain yourself with the sadly-departed, who tell no tales."

"You bet your sweet ash, Miss Scully…"

* * *

><p>Some hours later, while the sundry nightlife of Washington D.C. raged on, a certain G-woman and G-man, entwined on said man's comfy sofa popped puffed kernels of goodness into each other's mouth in-between sipping chilled ambrosia from California wine country.<p>

Time passed, guards lowered.

With his set still on, they slept, fast asleep in each other's arms. Having viewed two tapes in relative silence, they had learned more about each other than in all that time they'd spent holed up in that cramped, stuffy basement. Little green men, the smoking man and Emily, et al.


	2. Chapter 2

Yawning, lying on the bed that came with the stale room, he channel surfed, the action aimless. Nothing that was on free T.V. captured his attention. His mind was elsewhere, thinking of her, his Scully. It was a roaring bore taking this imposed trip without her. He needed her with him; this separation underscored just how being apart from her sucked. And yet, this time apart could benefit them Scully had pointed out.

This break afforded them time to deliberate, think seriously about what had occurred in his hallway—again. Or, what should never happen again. But, this ordeal was just that; he was missing her like crazy. Closing his bleary eyes, he engaged his 'energetic' imagination, making believe that his fair, red-haired partner _was_ with him. Despite his giving it the old college try, it wasn't working. It _so_ wasn't working. Succumbing to despair, he reached out for his phone, which lay beside the room's telephone, upon the nightstand. If he went ahead and followed through, calling her, he knew she wouldn't like it. That notion was sobering. She had been pretty adamant about their not making contact until they were face-to-face. Which wasn't quite the eternity it had been when they'd said their goodbyes. He would be flying back tomorrow. Sighing, Mulder resumed channel surfing and didn't pause until a report on _Fox News_ arrested his attention.

"Undocumented aliens in California can now apply for driver's licenses," he muttered, picturing little green men driving around in slate grey BMW SUVs. "Moving on." He settled on _Discovery_ channel, featuring a program about great white sharks.

Meanwhile, back in D.C….

Well past the rainy dinner hour, Scully, sprawled on her couch, foraged through channels. The bottle of chardonnay on the coffee table was half gone. Most of what she passed on viewing she'd seen before, so she tuned into an infomercial, having some fun knocking what they were selling as she sipped more wine. Her concentration off, her thoughts centered on Mulder. What was he doing this very moment? How was the case going so far? What solid leads did he have? She turned from thinking purely in a professional vein to the personal. Her heart rate stepped up.

What would be her exact words for him when she picked him up at Dulles? She approximated his voice in her head, hearing what he might say to her. What if they had nothing to say to each other? Haphazardly, she glanced off in the direction of the far wall, noting the time on the homey analog clock. The larger of the two hands crept to twelve to meet the smaller hand waiting for it to catch up. Off went her T.V. and Scully stood unsteadily up from the couch. Fuzzy, she changed for bed quickly, psychologically-challenged. Though she would be alone, missing him, as she struggled to fall asleep, she vowed she'd be with him in her dreams. Finally, a little after two a.m., she managed to drift off, her sleep dreamless.

* * *

><p>His telephone's blaring ring-ring-ring woke him. He grunted into the receiver, promptly hung up after he muttered something that might have passed for, "Thanks." Grunting some more, he shuffled his way to the bathroom to shower. While standing beneath the lukewarm pulsating stream, he began fantasizing his usual Scully fantasy, but abruptly reined his blue imagination in. It hit hard that he had no idea what he was going to say to her when they reunited. Aloud, he posed: "You've got two options, pal. One's wrong. And the other's iffy." He stood for a long while, distracted underneath the steady invigorating stream piecing together his random thoughts. Why couldn't he tell her what he really felt for her? Lying to himself was convenient, but it was gutless. Scully deserved so much better. He had a choice to make and putting it off was what he could no longer afford to do.<p>

Drying himself, Mulder shaved, dressed quickly, sat down on the edge of the bed, lowered his head to cradle it between his hands. The choice he needed to own up to became clearer.

Getting to sleep in, which was rare, felt delicious. Scully had time. Mulder's plane would arrive at 3 in the afternoon. She showered, dressed, paying extra special attention to make-up application and rued her nervousness. Although she was far from being hungry, she made herself a piece of light toast, sparingly buttered, and washed it down with some coffee, heavy on the cream, but not sugar. She could hardly wait to see him. She judged that FBI, or no FBI, she had a right to be happy. So did Mulder…

Several hours later pushing her way through the terminal, Scully reproached herself. She was late! She pictured him waiting there like an abandoned puppy dog, he under the distinct impression that she wasn't coming. Untrue—she was on her way, she just had to run faster! Her three inch heels' echoing clickety-clack warned the unwary to look out, or risk being bowled over.

Lingering by the arrivals area, Mulder sighed again and muttered, "Scully, I thought you said you were coming to pick me up…" He turned away from the mingling crowd of people hugging and kissing, not knowing what to think. Scully was just turning the corner, suddenly catching sight of him. She halted to a fast walk, fixing her clothes into more settled place and whisking errant strands of unruly hair out of her eyes. Her eyes never left him, waiting for Mulder to see her. He gave the impression that he really was that lost, abandoned puppy. All the love she felt for him coursed through her; he was hers. She was never letting him go.

Mulder spun back around, renewing his search for her in the terminal. When he saw her coming to him, his heart melted as their eyes met. Once face-to-face, near enough to touch, neither uttered a single word. Memories of what had transpired in his hallway came flooding back, overwhelming them. Instantly, they began finishing what they'd begun on the spot. Delicately, his hands explored the sides of her amazing face. Scully's hands fell upon his neck, massaging it tenderly. This PDA, for all those curious to see, was long overdue. Mulder's lips inched towards hers; hers met his halfway. Oddly, though, he stopped, causing a look of confused disappointment to heighten the look of dismay in Scully's eyes.

Leaning over her, he shifted her collar away from the nape of her neck, examining her skin before caressing it as gently as he could with a shaky hand.

"What's wrong?" Scully asked quietly, thoroughly taken aback.

"Just checking," he yielded, his tone infused with amusement. Sensuously, his lips overlay her ear and, together, they smiled. He kissed her the way he had at the morgue, and she kissed him back as avidly. "You're as real as it gets, Scully." Through a protracted sigh, he breathed, "Amen."

"No more solo investigations. I don't care what the Bureau dictates. As far as I'm concerned they're trying to break us up. I won't go along."

"Me neither. I second that with another resounding amen, Scully. What say we go back to my second home, yours, and order our favorite take-out, completely on me."

Hugging him tighter, Scully corroborated, "It's twosome investigations, or nothing. And I'll take take-out completely on you, Mulder, any time, any day of the week."

Leaving the terminal arm-in-arm, the agents walked off into the gathering sunset with their heads in the clouds, as though miraculously their ankles had sprouted diminutive wings, stolen from the cherubic-faced imp himself.

In her car, Mulder rested his head on her shoulder and admitted, sounding relieved, "I love you."

"I love you too. Now, let's eat!" She'd never felt this hungry in all her life.


End file.
